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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957875">And Yet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicTheSpookyGoat/pseuds/VicTheSpookyGoat'>VicTheSpookyGoat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alexithymia [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, Canon Compliant, Consensual Sex, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Idiots to Idiot Lovers, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Patch 2.0: A Realm Reborn Spoilers, Slow Burn, WOL is bad at feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:33:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicTheSpookyGoat/pseuds/VicTheSpookyGoat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> "She hoped perhaps that the use of his title might dissuade him, might restore the boundaries of propriety that had been slowly but surely crumbling since their first meeting at a banquet that felt like a lifetime past. Not that she had ever given much care to propriety, but he was… and she was… and it all felt deeply unnerving and wrong for reasons she couldn’t quite find a better word for. She wasn’t supposed to want it, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to want her." </em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raubahn Aldynn/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alexithymia [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge thank you to @TehJai and @Draya for their encouragement and especially Draya for the clarity pass &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Flame General hated these affairs. Around him, Ul’dah’s wealthiest and most privileged citizens swished this way and that, stuffing their faces with a bounty they had no hand in procuring, jostling for the attentions of the Sultana, comparing last quarter’s profits, trading stories of how <em> hard </em> it was to find good help these days. He scowled into his cup, not particularly caring who might see. His feelings on this matter were no secret.</p><p>His gaze drifted across the sea of garish finery to the only other person in the room who seemed as ill at ease as he did. The guest of honor.</p><p>The Elezen had managed to slink back into a far corner of the hall and was now watching the ostentatious display with an expression equal parts amusement and disdain over the rim of her own cup. The worrying of her free hand at the crook of her other elbow betrayed her discomfort, though, and it was obvious why. Grey Elezen were, as a rule, excluded from this caste of Ul’dan society.</p><p>She hadn’t noticed him yet, and he took the opportunity to study Ul’dah’s new champion, who was, admittedly, not what he had pictured when he’d read the Flame Lieutenant’s report. She cut a striking figure; lean and muscular, and tall, even for an Elezen, and her closely-fitted, black leather garb was almost more out of place than she was. A life hard-lived was written plainly in the angles and lines of her face, yet there was still a loveliness to it, framed handsomely as it was by jet black hair, cut bluntly to her chin. When she finally caught his gaze, he was startled by the paleness of her eyes - almost white against her dark, flint-gray skin. The look she gave him was inscrutable, but it lit something in him and he took it as an invitation to approach.</p><p>“Miss Penni, was it?” He asked, once he had worked his way through the crowd to her quiet corner.</p><p>“Moni,” she corrected, flatly, still regarding him with that unreadable expression.</p><p>“That is an unusual name for an Elezen.”</p><p>“Is it?” She took a sip from her wine, looking past him now. The dismissiveness of her air might have infuriated a lesser man, yet Raubahn found himself all the more intrigued for it.</p><p>“Will you not partake of the bounty that has been presented in your honor?” He probed, gesturing to the massive oak table laden with delicacies from what was likely every corner of Eorzea.</p><p>“Too rich for my blood,” she replied, after a pause, with a hint of irony in her tone. After another, longer pause, she turned to meet his gaze once more, a glint of fire in her pale eyes. “Does it not bother you to watch them gorge themselves while refugees starve in your streets?”</p><p>“Aye, it does,” he responded earnestly, his voice low so only she could hear. “But we do what is expected. The Sultana is not blind to the plight of the refugees, and she has directed a great deal of the crown’s resources to feed and house them, but there is a limit to even Ul’dah’s ability to provide.”</p><p>She scoffed, her gaze now fixed on a particularity rotund Hyur merchant who was presently stuffing a decedent meat pie into his mouth. “I’m sure the destitute take great solace in that…” </p><p>“And what do you know of Ul’dah’s destitute?” </p><p>“I’m a Thanalan Duskwight. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from there,” she replied dryly. Then she turned to look at him, fixing him with a curious gaze that seemed to pierce right through to the heart of him. “But you know what it is to belong among the unwanted dregs, don’t you, Flame General?”</p><p>He nodded, frowning. “These scars are not for show. My place here was purchased in blood… but it would seem safe to assume you already knew that.”</p><p>“One needn’t go far down Pearl Lane to hear stories of the Bull of Ala Mhigo…” She smirked, the closest thing to a smile he had seen from her all night, and he thought he saw her guard drop, just a little.</p><p>“And where would one go to hear stories of Moni Penni?” He watched her carefully as he asked, noting the minute twitch at the corner of her mouth and the way she didn’t quite meet his eyes.</p><p>“Far less reputable places than Pearl Lane,” she finally replied, sarcastic laughter in her tone cloaking a bitter truth.</p><p>“And yet here you are, champion of Ul’dah, a guest of honor of the Sultana herself.”</p><p>“And yet here I am…” She frowned and mumbled something that sounded like “show chocobo” into her wine. As she lifted her elbow to drain the cup, the candlelight caught on something in her breast pocket, which glinted with an unnatural brilliance. </p><p>“That light… what is it?”</p><p>Swallowing hard and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Moni produced a sky blue crystal, cut to a perfect prism, with the other. It seemed to give off a light of its own. “What, this thing?”</p><p>“So bright… Almost like…” He looked from the crystal to the Elezen’s confused expression. “By the Twelve!”</p><p>She frowned, and held it protectively to her chest. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you're about to imply…”</p><p>“No… Tell me true - have you been troubled by strange dreams of late? Visions - of the Crystal? Mayhap you put them down to an excess of aether?”</p><p>“How did you…? How do you know that?” There was something like fear in her eyes now.</p><p>“You are like <em> they </em> were,” he said softly, hoping to reassure her. “The Warriors of Light.”</p><p>“The… the heroes of Carteneau?” Her fear had shifted to incredulity. “Surely you jest...”</p><p>Raubahn shook his head. “Nay. When I look at you, I cannot help but think of them, and of what you might achieve.”</p><p>“You ought to have your eyes checked, then. I’m <em> not </em> a hero,” she scoffed.</p><p>“Say what you will. Yours is no ordinary tale… perhaps the fate of the realm may yet hang on upon your deeds.”</p><p>“Alright, don’t get carried away. Do you really want to trust the fate of the realm to-” she faltered, wincing, and clutched at her temple as if struck by an unseen blow. </p><p>“Moni? Are you alright?”</p><p>She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, her eyes rolled back and her body pitched forward. He caught her mid-fall, and gingerly lowered her to the floor, carefully cradling her neck so as to not let her head strike the stones. She was convulsing now, eyes still rolled back in her head and mouth open in a silent cry. </p><p>“Fetch a chirurgeon!” He bellowed to the closest guard. The man gaped, uncertain. “Quickly, lad!” </p><p>As the guard snapped back to attention and raced from the hall, the banquet guests, drawn from their frivolous pratter by the commotion, had begun to cluster around. Scandalized whispers and insinuations that obviously <em> those people </em> couldn’t hold their drink filtered through. At his feet, Moni convulsed again, murmuring something inaudible, and then she was still. Raubahn brought a hand to her neck, feeling for a pulse, and sighed with more relief than he expected when he felt her vein flutter under his fingertips. </p><p>Behind him, the crowd parted to admit the chirurgeon, who waved him away brusquely before setting about her examination. As he stood, he couldn’t take his eyes off Moni’s face. It was peaceful now, unguarded… and practically glowing as if from some holy light. She was beautiful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Truth and Consequence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I would have a private audience with the Warrior of Light.”</p><p>The Flame General’s tone was measured and flat, but there was something in his guarded expression that gave Moni pause.</p><p>A searching glance back at the rest of the Scions gave her nothing. They merely shrugged or gave her <em> looks </em> that only served to deepen her unease before taking their polite leave from the Fragrant Chamber. Fat lot of use they were…</p><p>And then they were alone. The Bull and the Warrior.</p><p>“General… to what do I owe the honor?”</p><p>“I would like to believe that we have always been honest with one other. It is a hallmark of our friendship that I prize most dearly.”</p><p>She was taken off guard by the statement. He was not <em> wrong</em>; in the year since their first meeting, their exchanges - both the formal and the not-so - were nothing if not forthright, even to a fault some might say… But what had not occurred to her in those exchanges was that he might value something about her beyond her usefulness to the realm. And what had absolutely not occurred to her was that he might consider her a <em> friend</em>. For some reason she could not quite put her finger on, these realizations made her deeply uneasy. Prickly. “Aye, I suppose that’s true… Are we here to trade compliments, or do you have some other point you’d like to make?”</p><p>He gave her a sharp look of reproach. “I received a report yesterday morn from one of my lieutenants, concerning a case the Brass Blades had all but given up… One of those investigations set to the side in the midst of the war, before the Calamity.”</p><p>“I see… and what case would that be?” She crossed her arms, instinctively, not liking where this conversation was going already.</p><p>“It involves a string of thefts from some of Ul’dah’s wealthiest citizens. The culprit stole several hundred thousand gil in coin and jewelry, which were never recovered.” He slid a thick folio of faded pages across the table toward her, as if inviting her to read for herself, or maybe just to taunt her with what he already knew. She gave it a sidelong glance, but refused to take the bait. She already knew what it would say.</p><p>“Let me guess, they’re feeling bloodthirsty for justice after all these years and you want me to track down your thief…” She was deflecting, and knew he could see right through it.</p><p>“No. I think we have already found our culprit.” His voice was even, his gaze level and unwavering.</p><p>Seven hells. </p><p>“So what do you need from me, then?”</p><p>“That depends on you. Statements by the victims and witnesses pointed to a highly sought after and rather <em> distinctive </em>looking Duskwight courtesan who called herself Filiammonie…”</p><p>She gave him no reaction, biting back the urge to correct his absolute butchering of the name, but her heart was racing in her chest.</p><p>“Do you know of whom I speak?”</p><p>She silently weighed the likelihood of either overpowering or outrunning him <em> and </em> whatever guards were surely posted outside. Not great odds. In a past life she might have spun some charming lie and wrapped it in a honeyed promise to make forgetting all about it worth his trouble… </p><p>But in this life? She didn’t really feel like making a fool of herself, and doubted her old tricks would work on him anyway. And truthfully, she didn’t want them to work on him. It would have diminished him in her eyes… and her in his. It was like he said, honesty...</p><p>“I do,” she finally replied, giving him just enough to make him press harder, to give her more ground on which to find her footing.</p><p>“And do you know what happened to her?” The question left an opening, a chance to lie, to be caught in a lie.</p><p>She wasn’t interested in being caught like that, though. “Aye. She was arrested while trying to pawn some of her stolen goods and sent to await trial in Halatali. Probably would have gone to the Blood Sands, too, if the Garleans hadn’t picked that sennight to invade… and she certainly would have been left to die with the rest, had she not coaxed one of the last guards to free her in exchange for a woman’s comfort.”</p><p>He nodded, fixing her with a scrutinizing gaze, but it lacked the judgement she had expected. “Many a prisoner escaped their lawful fate in the wake of the Calamity… whether justly or no. What did this particular prisoner do, once she had her freedom?”</p><p>Moni looked away, a bitter taste stinging at the bad of her throat. “She fled to the Sagolii… survived on desert grass and peiste hatchlings for the better part of a moon. Almost died, more than a few times… probably <em> should </em> have… But she was taken in by Ala Mhigans instead, learned to fight properly… learned to value more than coin…”</p><p>Raubahn was listening intently now, and it felt as if his gaze was piercing straight into her soul. “And then?”</p><p>“Then she came back to Ul’dah. Changed her name, took up adventuring, had an extremely unsettling encounter with a giant floating crystal, fell in with a bunch of lunatics hells bent on getting her killed, and since then, people have taken to calling her the Warrior of Light, for some godsforsaken reason.” She shrugged, surrendering to whatever would come of her confession. “So General, you've caught your thief. What will you do with her? Should she throw herself on your mercy?”</p><p>He gave her a queer smile, and shook his head. “Nay, lass. As far as I am concerned, your debt has been paid plenty of times over.”</p><p>Moni was taken aback. She had expected him to regard her with disgust and dismay, for the doors behind her to be flung open by a swarm of guards and for her to be drug off in chains. “And the Blades?”</p><p>“As far as they are concerned…” He stood now, taking the folio of incriminating documents in hand and crossing to one of the braziers lining the walls of the hall. The pages hissed and popped as they went into the flames. “Filiammonie died in the Sagolii, another victim of the Calamity.” </p><p>As the folio curled and blackened, turning to ash and smoke before her eyes, a weight seemed to lift from her chest. “Thank you…” she whispered, finally tearing her gaze away from the flames to meet his.</p><p>“You need not thank me,” he replied, his expression speaking volumes that she could not read. “But do not make me regret it.”</p><p>She swallowed hard and nodded, not understanding what she had done to deserve this grace. Her hands were trembling, she realized uncomfortably, and suddenly she desperately wished to escape for an entirely new reason. </p><p>Mercifully, he motioned to the door behind her. “The other Scions are likely waiting for you. There is much work yet to be done before Operation Archon can begin.”</p><p>“Aye…” she managed, backing away and turning to leave. At the door, she paused, though, seized by some ridiculous impulse and cast a look back at him over her shoulder. “And it’s Fili-AH-mo-née.”</p><p>Raubahn stared at her, confused, for a moment, then gave her a breathy laugh. “A far more beautiful name from your lips. Yet I think I like Moni better.”</p><p>“Aye… me too.” She gave him a half-smile, and slipped out of the room, her head spinning with dangerous thoughts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A General's Guilt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The explosion could be felt even from their position half a malm away, setting the air itself ablaze and kicking up a storm of burning dust that stung their eyes and choked their lungs. His eyes watering, Raubahn watched with mounting dread as the flames climbed higher, sending thick, black smoke billowing into the night sky over the Garlean stronghold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one could have survived that blast. A tight, heavy knot of fear and guilt seized him by the throat. Another explosion in the distance, then another, sent the knot plummeting into the pit of his stomach. He was the Flame General; his duty dictated that he would send brave souls into the maw of uncertainty. How many thousands had he led to their deaths over the course of his command? He was supposed to be immune to this feeling. And yet as he watched the night sky turn crimson over the Praetorium, he could not shake the cold grip of remorse and regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had questioned the wisdom of the assault, confided to him her doubts of her own ability to defeat the Ultima Weapon… That was just her way, he had told himself. She was stronger than she knew, he had told her. She hadn’t believed him, and hadn’t bothered to let him believe she had. Instead, she had merely accepted her role with the same grim resignation she always did; without joy, without pride. She never asked to be the Warrior of Light, she had told him once; all she wanted was to do better for Eorzea than it had for her. Should have been a simple task…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eorzea was a harsh mistress, and she took more than she gave. Moni knew that, better than most, and yet she kept at it, putting herself on the line to save the realm and her people time after arduous time. She always managed to come out on the other side, bruised and battered, but still whole, still fighting… But this time… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raubahn breathed a silent prayer, for her safe return, and for the gods’ mercy should she not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension among the assembled only grew with each passing moment. In the distance, the Praetorium seemed to be collapsing in upon itself, each explosion setting off another. Hope was a swiftly fading memory… but then, silhouetted against the flames, three figures appeared, racing across the plains to their position. Raubahn strained to see through the smoke and the gloom, hope swelling anew in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the figures drew closer, though, the feeling deserted him again. It was not her, but Alliance scouts, racing ahead to report the successful withdrawal of their respective forces. They were good tidings, but not the ones he needed to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Admiral Merlwyb stated the obvious, her hard eyes fixed on the tunnel entrance from whence Moni was meant to make her escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has there been no word?” Raubahn demanded, surprised by the desperation in his own voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scouts merely shook their heads, helpless. Minfilia tried the linkshell again, to no avail. Tension turned to fear, despite the Scions’ best efforts to rally the Alliance leaders. Did their optimism know no bounds? Raubahn strained again to see through the darkness, offering silent bargains to the gods now. Just let her make it out… let her live… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There!” Minfilia’s clear voice cut through his supplications, her hand outstretched toward the tunnel entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Explosions ripped through the narrow opening, filling it with fire and smoke, and for a moment Raubahn thought the Antecedent a fool and a liar. But then, a figure appeared, hurtling through the flames at a breakneck pace. It was the stolen magitek armor… His breath caught in his throat. Could it be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contraption bounded clear of the smoke and a cry went up from the assembled as the rider’s face came into view. Raubahn‘s breath escaped him finally, his legs feeling suddenly unable to hold him. Her armor was in tatters, and her movements betrayed her injuries, but her eyes shone with that same holy light he had seen once before, moons ago in Ul’dah. She was magnificent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if possessed by some joyous delirium, the assembled - Scions and Alliance leaders alike - raced across the plain, whooping and cheering, to meet their hero. As she dismounted into the waiting arms of her friends, Moni stumbled, clearly weakened from the tremendous exertion she had just endured. It was all he could do to restrain himself from racing to her and taking her into his arms… But she righted herself, and caught his eye, flashing him a weary smile and all clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that brief moment, his eyes locked on hers and his heartbeat pounding his head, Raubahn felt something within him shift, and knew there was no going back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Liquid Courage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set after Praetorium</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moni had pitched her tent at the farthest edge of the Alliance encampment, atop a rocky outcrop that did little to damper the sounds of distant revelry from the main camp. </p><p>Her attendance at the celebration was expected, and she had obliged, if only for appearances. As soon as the soldiers’ attention had shifted from her to their cups, though, she had slipped away into the darkness, desiring only quiet and solitude. Hours later, her small fire almost burned out and the moon making its slow descent toward the horizon, she sat alone on a dried out log, staring wearily at the dying flames. Every ilm of her ached, and her mind was clouded as if from too much fogweed, but she knew that sleep would not find her.</p><p>A thought had caught on the back of her mind and kept stubbornly wiggling its way through the fog of exhaustion. It had been that <em> look</em>. The one in Raubahn’s eyes when they met hers outside the Praetorium. The same one she had caught in Ul’dah, after her return from the Castrum Centri. The one that held too much relief and something else that made her mouth go as dry as the Sagolii and set a knot in her stomach that burned and froze all at once… </p><p>She swore aloud, kicking sand into the waning fire, sending sparks flying. It was a stupid thought, a stupid feeling. And yet…</p><p>He was approaching her camp, in the dead of night, alone. </p><p>It was his gait that gave him away - heavy and sure, yet favoring the right knee, an artifact of some ancient injury. His footsteps stopped several fulms short, as if awaiting permission to approach further. As if The Bull had ever waited for permission from anyone... She could hear the rustle of his cloak and the low, steady rhythm of his breath even from this distance. Her own breath caught in her throat, the now too-familiar unease that he set off in her settling in once again. Seven hells.</p><p>“Flame General.” She hoped perhaps that the use of his title might dissuade him, might restore the boundaries of propriety that had been slowly but surely crumbling since their first meeting at a banquet that felt like a lifetime past. Not that she had ever given much care to propriety, but he was… and she was… and it all felt deeply unnerving and <em> wrong </em> for reasons she couldn’t quite find a better word for. She wasn’t supposed to want it, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to want <em> her. </em></p><p>Something in her voice must have sounded like an invitation, though, because the footsteps drew closer. She swore again, prudently under her breath this time.</p><p>“Moni.” He was standing beside her now, his cloak catching against his tree-trunk legs in the wind out of the corner of her vision. She kept her eyes fixed on the fire, waiting for him to say something else, but he said nothing.</p><p>“Do you need something, or are you just going to <em> loom</em>?” she prodded, trying to sound annoyed, but that required too much energy and instead she just sounded exhausted.</p><p>A bottle of something dark and strong-smelling appeared before her eyes, and she chanced a glance up. Raubahn was smiling down at her, his deep set eyes hidden in shadow. She wasn’t sure if it was a blessing that she couldn’t see his exact expression. </p><p>“Should I take my leave, then?”</p><p>Moni looked away again, but accepted the peace offering with a sigh of resignation and a tilt of her head to the open space on the log beside her. She took a long swig as he lowered himself onto the log with a grunt. He wasn’t wearing armor, she noted with a sidelong glance. It was strange to see him without that distinctive bull head pauldron or the intricate plates of black leather. He seemed… smaller, and yet still somehow larger than life. The waning firelight cast his rough hewn features in sharp relief, and the smell of drink hung about him, mingled with the sharp tang of sweat and blood and leather.</p><p>She tried very hard to ignore the rising heat that had joined the unease in her belly that she couldn’t blame entirely on the whiskey.</p><p>“They are singing songs in your honor.”</p><p>“I know,” she winced, passing him the bottle. “Someone should tell them to stop.”</p><p>“Are you truly so uncomfortable receiving the praise you so rightly deserve?” He studied her carefully, watching her expression tighten.</p><p>She made a dismissive noise and snatched the bottle from his hand, knocking back another swig. The whiskey burned in her throat and sent the heat to her cheeks now. Perhaps she couldn’t blame that entirely on the drink either, though. Another sidelong glance confirmed that Raubahn was still staring at her, waiting for the truth. She allowed the silence to marinate a bit longer, tilting her head back to stare up at the impossibly vast sky above, and considered a witty retort. But she was too tired for wit, and anything less than honesty at this point felt absurd anyway.</p><p>“Aye, I suppose I am,” she finally sighed, fixing her gaze on a particularly bright star. “A lifetime of being told you’re lower than the dirt under your heel by the same people who’ve suddenly decided to sing your praises makes it hard to take with less than a <em> cartload </em> of salt.”</p><p>Raubahn frowned, and paused, as if weighing his response. He finally replied with a low, resigned chuckle. “There is no argument I can offer to that.”</p><p>Something deep within her seemed to unclench and relax, and Moni found herself breathing out a soft laugh of her own. “Because I’m right.” </p><p>She glanced down at the bottle in her hands, and held it out to her companion. When he accepted the bottle, the tips of his fingers brushed her scarred and scabbed knuckles, and she clenched again. He had to have seen, because he withdrew quickly and took a longer swig than was probably necessary.</p><p>They sat in silence for some time, only the bottle and unspoken questions passing between them</p><p>It was Raubahn who broke the silence, finally and abruptly. “What will you do now?”</p><p>Moni was surprised by the question, by the familiarity it invited. She took a moment, before answering honestly again. “I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve given a lot of thought to that… didn’t exactly expect to come out of there in one piece.”</p><p>“When we saw the explosion… I was sure that I had sent you to your death.” </p><p>“You didn’t. It was my choice to go, and I am reasonably certain that I did not die, because this is certainly not how I picture the seven hells.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them and she felt heat rush to her cheeks again.</p><p>“Aye, this is far from hell...” His voice was low and hoarse, straining as if he were forcing the words from his throat. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that he sounded nervous too. “Hell would have been losing you.”</p><p>Did he… she had to have misheard him. It had to be the drink talking... And yet, she felt him shift beside her, and after a moment’s hesitation, forced herself to look up and meet his gaze. There was something in his eyes that set the warm embers in her belly aflame and sapped every bit of moisture from her mouth.</p><p>“There is something that I should have done before, that I would have sorely regretted not doing had you not returned…”</p><p>Before she could even begin to speculate on his intentions, he had leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, softly and with a reservation that she expected even less than the kiss itself.</p><p>Even more unexpected was the way the sensation sent a shiver down her spine, and that she found herself leaning into it, parting her lips and grasping at his tunic to deepen the embrace. To hell with propriety, then. His lips were warm, and the way his huge, rough hand cupped her jaw ever so gently made her feel… well she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel, but she knew she wanted more of it. He tasted of whiskey and smelled of the battlefield, but in truth she was more focused on the rapidly rising feelings of desire that threatened to overwhelm all of her good sense. He apparently was too, judging by the way his other hand now gripped her waist, pulling her even closer.</p><p>If they weren’t careful, they were going to fall off this log. </p><p>She reached out and grabbed his thigh to balance herself, knowing full well but not caring what message the gesture sent. Raubahn received it loud and clear, regardless, and Moni felt his hand slide under the hem of her shirt. His touch was delicious fire on the smooth skin of her waist, then her ribs, then… she shuddered and tightened her grip, eliciting a low groan that was almost a growl. The hand that had been cradling her face so tenderly was now tangled in her hair, and he pulled her head back as his lips left hers to wander down her chin to her neck. She gasped, despite herself, and her hand crept further up his leg, slipping under the edge of his tunic and inching closer to the thing she needed now, oh gods… </p><p>They were hurtling toward a point of no return, and neither of them seemed to have the ability or inclination to slow down.</p><p>Then… footsteps, approaching. Probably just some drunken foot soldier looking for a private place to piss, but still… the prospect of being caught like this was too much. She froze, and he pulled away, a look of genuine concern in his expression. It was a momentary reprieve, but it was long enough for her to become reacquainted with her senses. What the hells were they doing? </p><p>“You should go,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes with what she tried to tell herself wasn’t cowardice.</p><p>He withdrew without a word, and her skin felt unbearably cold in the places where his hands had been. She continued to avoid his gaze, awkwardly smoothing down her shirt and her hair as he stood, turned to leave, then paused.</p><p>“If I have overstepped, I pray you will forgive me.” His voice was earnest, pained. </p><p>“You didn’t-” Her own voice snagged on guilt and regret in her throat. Why did he have to be so bloody <em> honorable </em> about it? ”Please just go.” </p><p>He paused a moment longer, and then departed, leaving her there with her cold skin and her cold heart and a cold knot of remorse in her stomach. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Morning After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun shone too brightly overhead, as if mocking him. The Flame General should have been in high spirits, like the rest of his company, reveling still in their victory over the Empire. He put on a good show for their benefit, but he could not shake the heaviness in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes had sought out her face in the crowd even as he and the other leaders of the Grand Companies gave their expected speeches, extolling the bravery of their soldiers and the sacrifices of the fallen. Cheap words, she would have said. She probably cursed when they called her out by name to heap even more praises upon her acts of heroism on their behalf. Indeed, when he finally spotted her face, it was set in a poorly-contained scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the speeches were done, and the assembled had turned their attentions to the morning’s more diverting activities - chiefly the several barrels of ale and wine generously provided by the Lominsan contingent - he sought out the woman herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raubahn found her, as expected, lingering at the far edge of the celebration, arms crossed and staring out over the water. He knew that she heard him approach by the sudden tensing of her shoulders, and he briefly contemplated retreat. Twelve, what was this woman doing to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“General.” Her voice was flat, perhaps intended to sound hard, but it was too strained to be convincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moni,” he replied, softly, drawing alongside her. Her pale eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark pince nez, not that it would have mattered. She refused to meet his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need something?” No playful addition this time, only a curt question in a guarded tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem troubled.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cast him a sidelong glance. “Speak for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, I am troubled. Last night...” Seven hells, why was this so difficult? He was the Bull of Ala Mhigo, not some sniveling, fumbling whelp. “I feel a fool who has made a grave error in judgment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were drunk, it happens.” Her tone was painfully dismissive, even if she did not mean it to be, and the half-hearted way she shrugged made him snap back harder than he intended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet I am sober now, and my feelings have not changed…” He watched with regret as her posture shifted, closing further in on herself. More softly, as if to soothe the damage already done, he continued. “But if you tell me it meant nothing, I will leave it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tensed beside him for a moment, then turned, finally, to look up at him. Even partially obscured by her pince nez, the sadness in her expression was unmistakable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. That’s the problem.” And with that, she was gone, leaving him with his troubled mind and his heavy heart.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Frozen Exile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After The Fall</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fucking Coerthas. Of all the places they could take refuge, it had to be bloody <em> fucking </em> Coerthas<em>. </em></p><p>Moni shivered as she stared out the window of the room Haurchefant had generously had prepared for her, glowering at the snowstorm raging outside, as if that would have any effect. Her reflection merely glowered back at her, features distorted and swollen from the beating the Brass Blades had so gleefully bestowed upon her after her arrest. Her right eye throbbed - the bone was likely fractured, judging by the swelling and the sickly color - and a nascent scab on her lower lip tugged and cracked as her scowl deepened. She couldn’t find it in her to blame them, though, not really. Who wouldn’t want to take a swing at a living legend, if only for the right to brag to their fellows after too many ales?</p><p>The thought drew a heavy sigh, and she stepped away from the window, still shivering. Her clothes, perfect for the warm nights of Thanalan, were laughably ill-suited for the biting cold of <em> fucking Coerthas, </em> and now they were soaked with snow besides. The chill clung to her skin as she began the painful task of stripping down. She winced as her fingers brushed each newly discovered bruise, and nearly doubled over when she reached down to unlace her boots. An angry, purple splotch had bloomed just below her left breast where Ilberd’s boot had planted itself hours before, and a ginger probe confirmed that it was definitely a broken rib, maybe two. </p><p>Ilberd, that snake in the grass… no, that wasn’t fair. Snakes were honest about what they were. He was just a conniving bastard. Envisioning how she would beat him to death with her bare hands brought her some comfort, however small or fleeting...</p><p>Stripped now to only her smallclothes, Moni took one last assessment of her injuries and sighed, weary. Her fine dress attire, for which she had paid a sum that would have made her younger self weep, was crumpled in a heap at her feet, caked in mud and blood. <em> His </em> blood. She tried not to think about the wet heat of it down her arm as he cut her free, or the look in his eyes as he commanded her to escape... </p><p>She swore aloud and kicked the bloody mess across the room. Why did he have to be a gods damned hero about it? </p><p>A cold, sick feeling of dread had settled into her stomach which she was absolutely determined to ignore, and she busied herself instead with shimmying into the heavy woolen nightgown that had been laid out for her. The thing was hideous, and itchy besides - like wearing an ankle length potato sack - and not nearly as warm as she would have hoped. </p><p>Snatching the thickest blankets from the bed, she carefully lowered herself to the floor by the hearth. She scooted as close as she dared, drawing the heavy quilts around her shoulders, but still the chill clung to her. It was as if the very marrow in her bones had turned to ice. She couldn’t stop shivering, and each convulsion sent a fresh wave of agony shooting through her midsection. Her heart raced in her chest; whether from the cold or the pain, she couldn’t tell.</p><p>She tried to imagine a midday wind blowing in off the Sagolii, the summer sun reflecting off the waters of Vesper Bay, warm sands between her toes… </p><p>A ragged, pitiable sob escaped her throat before she could swallow it, and she was completely powerless to stop the tears that followed. She had neither the will nor the energy to fight, and so gave into it instead, clutching at the edges of the blanket, her knuckles white under old scars, letting the sorrow pour out of her in wretched, painful waves. They were gone. Raubahn. Thancred, Y'shtola, and the rest. The Monetarists held Ul’dah and she was exiled to a frozen wasteland to never see the sun set over the desert or feel a summer wind on her face or hear his voice say her name… </p><p>So deep was her well of despair that she did not hear the soft footsteps in the hall outside, or the creaking of the door behind her, or even the metallic clink of the tray being set on the table by her side. It was only the tiny, gentle hand on her shoulder that found its way through. </p><p>“Moni?” Tataru - dear, steady Tataru - looked up at her with worry in her big, coral eyes. “Are you ok?”</p><p>The question set off a fresh wave of sorrow and Moni let her forehead fall onto the Lalafell’s narrow shoulder, choking out her fears between gasping sobs. “They’re gone, Tataru. They’re gone... and we’re never… never going home…” </p><p>Tiny hands rubbed her shoulders. Tataru’s voice in her ear was strained, full of sadness and strength. “Don’t say that. They’re still out there, I know it.”</p><p>Then, with a mighty push, Tataru took Moni by the shoulders and forced her up to give her a hard, stern stare. “Now, you listen to me. We are going to find our friends, and we’re going to clear all our names, and then you’re going to give those Crystal Bastards a proper thrashing!”</p><p>Moni was stunned for a moment by Tatatu’s determination… and her language. Despite herself, she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “What did we ever do to deserve you?”</p><p>Tataru beamed at her, and released her grip to retrieve a steaming mug from her until-then forgotten tray. She handed it to Moni, then took its pair into her own hands. The contents smelled sweet, and Moni took a tentative sip. The taste of chocolate and brandy met her lips, and she gave Tataru’s hand an appreciative squeeze.</p><p>As they sat and sipped, Moni’s heart was still heavy, but at least now she had finally stopped shivering.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Reunions and Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Flame General had awoken that morning a broken man resigned to die. Fitting, he thought, that his life should end at Halatali, among the decaying ruins of the proving grounds of his glory days… for was that not what he had become himself? A ruin, outlived its usefulness… </p><p>But then <em> she </em> had appeared. A whirlwind of leather and grace and fury, buying his freedom with her fists. She had said little, but the look that passed between them as she goaded him to his feet spoke plenty…</p><p>Now, as he sat in the little infirmary in the Waking Sands, listening to Pipin recount what had transpired in Ul’dah since his arrest and having his injuries attended to by a dour old woman introduced by Lady Yugiri as ‘Grandma Yaga’, Raubahn found his thoughts drifting to the Warrior of Light. Thoughts of her pale eyes full of rage, of her crooked smile-that-wasn’t-quite, of the surprising softness of her skin under his palm… He tried in vain to chase them from his mind, to focus on the more pressing matters at hand. The Sultana was alive, his city was in the hands of a scheming monetarist traitor, there was work to be done… and yet... </p><p>“Gods damn it, woman!” A searing, white hot pain brought his attention quite abruptly back to the present. </p><p>“Sit still, young man, lest you wish this to take <em> longer</em>. Or do you want to lose the rest of the arm too?” Grandma Yaga scowled down at him and resumed her work, cutting away at the dead and infected flesh where his arm had once been. “How long has it been since those bandages were changed?”</p><p>He gave her his best scowl in return before turning to Pipin. “How long has it been since I was arrested?”</p><p>“Three moons, give or take… it’s hard to keep track these days.”</p><p>Pipin had opened his mouth to respond, but it was not his voice that Raubahn heard. </p><p>She was leaning against the door frame, regarding him with one of her inscrutable gazes. How long had she been standing there, watching? The air around him suddenly felt too warm, the room too small.</p><p>“Ah! Moni,” Pipin exclaimed. “I understand I have you to thank for saving my father’s life!”</p><p>She gave him a shrug. “You should give your thanks to Alphinaud and Lady Yugiri. They planned and made his escape possible. I was just the muscle.”</p><p>Pipin laughed and shook his head. “Father has told me of your modesty. I think you deserve more praise than you give yourself credit for.” </p><p>The corner of her lip turned up, just slightly, and she turned her gaze back to Raubahn, who found that he could not meet it. “I wonder what else your father has told you about me…”</p><p>Raubahn needed to regain control of this situation before it spiraled any further. “Pipin, my boy, would you give us a moment? I wish to speak with Moni on a confidential matter.”</p><p>Pipin glanced up at him, then to Moni, then back to him, before flashing his father a knowing look. “Of course, father. I will go see Master Urianger about clean clothes and a hot meal. I expect you’ll want both.”</p><p>“Aye, thank you, lad.”</p><p>“Moni, would you take dinner with us?” </p><p>Gods damn the boy… </p><p>“No, I can’t stay. I’ve been called back to Ishgard.” She avoided his gaze now. He should have been relieved, but his heart felt suddenly as if it were made of lead.</p><p>“Oh, of course.” Pipin gave her a disappointed nod. “I hope our paths cross again soon. I look forward to hearing tales of your adventures from the source.”</p><p>Moni nodded politely in return. “Aye. I doubt I will be able to live up to what you’ve heard, though.”</p><p>Pipin just laughed again, and after casting his father one last knowing wink, troddled out of the infirmary. And then they were alone… with Grandma Yaga, who was clearly ignoring them both as she busied herself mixing some foul smelling concoction. Raubahn cleared his throat pointedly, earning him a reproachful glare from the old woman.</p><p>“Whatever funny business you two have in mind can wait until after I’ve finished,” she snapped, pushing Raubahn back onto his stool with one hand and brandishing a small wooden spatula at Moni with the other. “Young lady, make yourself useful and hold this bowl.”</p><p>Moni’s brow lifted slightly, and he expected her to snap back at the woman, but she did as she was bade, crossing the room to take the mortar from the table and hold it out for the healer without a word of protest. Instead, she turned her gaze to him with a weary half-smile and a faint glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “I don’t know what smells worse, you or the poultice…”</p><p>This drew a smirk from Grandma Yaga, who was now slathering the pungent mixture over his wound. Raubahn gave them both his best indignant look. “Have you come to gang up on me? I promise, Grandma Yaga here has my torment well in hand.”</p><p>It was Moni’s turn to smirk. “So I see.”</p><p>Finally, mercifully, Grandma Yaga seemed satisfied. She took the mortar from Moni, and shoved a swatch of linen and roll of bandages into her hands in return, along with terse instructions. “Cover the poultice with that and wrap it tightly, but not so tightly you cut off the blood flow. And wash your hands first.”</p><p>“I have dressed wounds before…”</p><p>“Not more than you’ve caused, I’ll wager,” the old woman responded brusquely, giving Moni a sharp, appraising look, before turning her attention back to Raubahn. “And you, bed rest for the remainder of the sennight. I’ll have a potion sent that will stave off whatever infection might have made it into the rest of you, but those bandages best be changed daily.”</p><p>With one last reproachful glance for each of them, Grandma Yaga took her leave, and they were finally alone. </p><p>Their buffer gone, an awkward, uncertain silence descended to fill the space between them. Moni, for her part, seemed content to let the silence linger as she unfastened the straps of her gauntlets and laid them one by one upon the table. Pushing up her sleeves, she moved wordlessly to the basin of water at the far end, and proceeded, methodically, to scrub her hands and forearms.</p><p>Raubahn watched her carefully, trying to will the right words to his mouth, but they eluded him. So much had happened; to them, around them, <em> between them </em> … There was something different about her now, too. Her armor, certainly; her impractical, revealing garb set aside in favor of heavier, sturdier stuff that shielded her from neck to toe in leather and steel. But that was not it. A sadness hung about her, but that was not unexpected for one who had lost so much so quickly. It was something else. She seemed… <em> diminished </em> somehow, as if a light had been extinguished in her.</p><p>But then, some things had not changed. The sharpness of her tongue, certainly not, nor the quirk of her lips in that smile that wasn’t quite, or the ever present <em> guard </em>that he wanted nothing more than to smash through to get to the heart of her…</p><p>The scraping of wood against stone brought him back again. She was pushing a stool toward him with her foot, shaking the water from her hands. Still without a word, she sat, so close that the cold steel of her poleyn brushed against the bare skin of his knee. From this distance, he could see the fading halo of a bruise across her high cheekbone, and the swelling that marred the bow of her lips. He knew better than to remark on either.</p><p>“Hold still.” She finally broke the silence, her words a gentle command. Carefully, she stretched the linen across his stump, pressing it gingerly into the poultice. “Hold that there.”</p><p>Raubahn did as he was told, still watching her, willing her to say something more. But she merely went about her task, retrieving the roll of bandages from the table and making the first pass to secure the linen. Her hands were surprisingly gentle, almost <em> tender; </em>one cradling what was left of his arm, the other nimbly guiding the bandages in slow, careful circles up to his shoulder. He realized, with a hint of dismay, that they had not been this close since…</p><p>“You can relax now, I’m done.”</p><p>He realized then that every muscle in his body was tensed, and that she was studying him, her expression unreadable again. Perhaps it was just the delirium of his long confinement, but he was seized by a sudden desire to grab her and kiss that damnably cryptic look off her face. </p><p>Thank Rhalgr, though, he did still have some self control. Instead, he found his words, in the form of the question he’d asked her in Halatali, but which she had let Alphinaud answer instead.</p><p>“Why did you come back for me?”</p><p>The corners of her lips tightened and pulled downward as she averted her eyes. “It’s like Alphinaud said… Ul’dah needs her General.”</p><p>It was a deflection, not the honesty he needed. He pressed again, more forcefully this time. “I did not ask why Alphinaud came back. Why did <em> you </em> come back?”</p><p>“Why does it matter?” She shrugged, another deflection.</p><p>“Because I need to know. You owe me nothing, and I have clearly caused you nothing but sorrow. By the Twelve, I do not understand you.”</p><p>“You really don’t.” There was that flash of fire in her silver eyes. “And that’s the only thing you just said that has any truth to it.”</p><p>Raubahn was taken aback, but to see the spark of the woman he remembered lit a flame in his belly. “Then tell me the truth.”</p><p>“Seven hells…” Moni pinched the bridge of her nose, giving him a helplessly exasperated look. “I… hells… must I really spell it out for you?”</p><p>He had never seen her so flustered. It was nice to see the tables turned for once, and he had every intention of pressing the advantage. “Aye, you must.”</p><p>She took a breath, as if to steel herself, then exhaled sharply through her nose as she met his eyes again. Her voice was firm, but he could hear emotion rising in each word. “Raubahn, you are one of the very few people in this realm who has always treated me like a <em> person. </em> Not a wretch, or an <em> object</em>, or a pawn in some grand bloody scheme. Hells, you were presented a thieving whore on a silver platter and instead of trying to take advantage, you set her loose and burned the damned evidence! You gave me mercy and honesty, and actually gave a damn what happened to me. Do you know how few people can say that? I could count them on one hand, and most of those are probably dead now. You are a good and noble man, in a city full of cheats and liars, in a realm full of cowards. Of course I came back for you, you great bloody fool. Ul’dah needs you. Eorzea needs you.” And then, so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard it at all, “I need you.”</p><p>He sat in stunned silence for a moment. Normally her honesty was sharp, acerbic, but this… Would she never cease to surprise him? Then, with a pang of guilt, he saw the glint of tears against her dark skin. Without thinking, he reached up and cupped her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek to wipe the sorrow away. Her skin was soft and warm under his palm, and for a moment she let him hold her like that, her eyes closed, her guard shattered. He wondered, if he just leaned in, pressed his lips to hers… When she opened her eyes again, they met his with a look that spoke volumes he could not read.</p><p>“Moni…” he whispered, his mouth dry and his voice hoarse. She had robbed him of his words again.</p><p>Gently, she pulled his hand away, and a strange look passed over her expression. “I have to go.”</p><p>And leave him here with the weight of what she had just confessed? But he couldn’t ask her to stay. Not after what he had just demanded from her. He had no claim, no right. “Will you come back?”</p><p>She stood, looked away, then back, flashing him an ironic smirk. “Ishgard hasn’t found a way to kill me yet.”</p><p>“Do not tempt fate like that,” he responded, failing to find the humor in her jest.</p><p>Her smirk faded into a tight line of determination. “I will be thrice damned before I let that frozen hellscape take me.”</p><p>At that, he had to laugh, if only softly. “Aye… Then I will hold you to that.”</p><p>She nodded, a half smile returning to her lips, and picked up her gloves from the table. “And when I return, we will find the Sultana. Ul’dah is long overdue for a bit of stability.”</p><p>“As are we all…” he sighed, feeling suddenly weary at the thought.</p><p>Moni gave him another nod, then turned as if to leave. Something seemed to catch her, though, and she turned back to him. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, withdrawing before he had a chance to react. “Don’t get into any trouble before I get back.”</p><p>With that, she turned on her heel and was gone, leaving him once again with more questions than answers. Rhalgr give him strength…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Without Regrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moni would freely admit that her motives for convincing Alphinaud to delay their trip to Revenant’s Toll had been purely selfish. She had missed Ul’dah - its bustle, its noise, even its <em> smells </em> - and the thought of leaving again so soon was too much to bear without at least an attempt at protest. The younger Elezen had acquiesced, to her surprise and likely for his own reasons, agreeing to delay until the morn. </p><p>They had made the walk back to the Quicksand in near silence. He was likely preoccupied by his impending meeting with what remained of his ambitious, if ultimately foolhardy, venture at creating his own army, and she with thoughts of a foolhardy venture of a very different sort. She should have been grateful for the silence; for as much as the lordling had grown on her, she still found him exhausting at times, especially after having spent a bit too much time together in exile… but it also meant she had nothing to distract her from the dangerous thoughts swirling in her head.</p><p>To see <em> him </em> again, full of flame and vigor, commanding and imposing like the true General that he was… it had been many, many  summers since she could be considered a maiden, and she had certainly never <em> swooned</em>, but the sight of him had made her possibly understand why one might… Seven hells.</p><p>The tavern was at full tilt when they arrived, packed with adventurers and soldiers, most clearly three sheets to the wind and a few clearly itching for a fight, judging by the way they eyed her dandy companion. A hard eyed glare from Moni and a whispered warning from their compatriots seemed to quell whatever death wish they might have had, though, and she and Alphinaud made their way to the counter unmolested. </p><p>“Ah, Mistress Penni, Master Alphinaud, I wondered when you might grace my establishment again!” The innkeeper greeted them warmly, his arms outstretched.</p><p>“Don’t pretend you’re happy to see me, Otopo,” Moni shot back, smirking.</p><p>“You wound me,” the Lalafell responded, clutching his heart with feigned indignance. “Why should I not be pleased to see my favorite customer?”</p><p>“You’re pleased to see my coin, and you’re a terrible liar.”</p><p>Otopo just chuckled. “Ah well, I tried. Looking to stay the night, then? Afraid we’re all but booked up, only one room left.”</p><p>Didn’t that just figure… It appeared she would be finding other accommodations that night. “The boy will take it, then.”</p><p>Alphinaud opened his mouth as if to protest, but a sharp glance from Moni silenced him. She would have to remember that trick. </p><p>“Do not give me that look, Alphinaud. I will be fine. There are other inns in the city-“</p><p>“Then let us go to one of those!” </p><p>It was these moments when she was harshly reminded that he was in fact still a child. Running a hand over her face, she sighed. “I am not taking you to a pleasure house.”</p><p>She had scarcely seen anyone go so red so fast. He stammered out a flustered surrender and accepted the key from Otopo. Regaining some semblance of his composure, he turned back to her, not quite meeting her eye and the tips of his ears still flushed. “Where should I, ah, meet you in the morn?”</p><p>“I’ll meet you here. If I’m not back by the eighth bell, tell Mistress Momodi to send a man.” She was already sauntering toward the door.</p><p>“Send a man where?” Alphinaud cried after her.</p><p>“She’ll know!” With one last wave and a glance back at the lordling’s perplexed face, Moni stepped out into the warm desert night.</p><p>There was something about Ul’dah at that bell, when decent folks had long since retired to their homes and the streets were awash in the light of the moon, that Moni loved, but tonight something felt… off. She should have been glad for the excuse to wander the city, to soak in the quiet and the solitude after so long abroad with neither. But her body was restless, her mind distracted. Perhaps that was why, rather than turning east to the Sapphire Avenue Exchange and the promise of a soft bed, her feet carried her west, toward the Hall of Flames.</p><p>She did not actually register that she had wandered to the seat of the Immortal Flames until she was standing bathed in the golden glow of its braziers. The courtyard was empty, save for a lone sentry at the door. He was young, barely earned his colors from the looks of him. She wondered idly what he had done to earn the graveyard shift… </p><p>The sound of familiar footsteps behind her - heavy and sure, but favoring the right knee - drew her attention back and set her pulse racing. Where moons before the sound of his approach had set off a deep unease in her belly, now it filled her with a jittery heat that demanded relief. A glance over her shoulder at the look in the Flame General’s eyes as they met hers was all it took to turn that heat into a raging inferno.</p><p>He drew closer, his eyes still locked on hers. His voice was husky as he spoke, softly, so only they could hear. “I did not expect to be blessed by your presence here tonight.”</p><p>“I didn’t expect to end up here…” she replied, more hoarsely than she expected. Her next words tumbled from her lips before she could catch them. “The Hourglass is full up. Trouble you for a place to bed down?”</p><p>He took another step toward her, until only a few ilms remained between them. “Aye, that can be arranged.”</p><p>“Lead the way…” she whispered, still never breaking eye contact. Her pounding heart threatened to punch right out of her chest. Perhaps she was being foolhardy, even reckless, but <em> gods </em> she did not care. There had been too many goodbyes, too many nights not knowing if the next sunrise would be her last to care what might go wrong. She could feel the heat coming off of him, smell the musk of leather and sweat and sun-baked earth, hear the steady thud of his heart in his armored chest. Was it respite or torture when he stepped away toward the entrance to the Hall, beckoning her to follow?</p><p>The barracks were as still as the street; the only sounds, their footsteps and the creak of their armor as they made their way wordlessly through the labyrinthine corridors to the General’s quarters. With each step, a little more doubt crumbled away to be left on the stone floor in their wake. There would be no turning back now.</p><p>At the door to his quarters, Raubahn paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, as if seeking reassurance that she was still there. She supposed that she couldn’t blame him for second-guessing her intentions, but just nodded, urging him on wordlessly. He held her gaze as he opened the door to the sparsely furnished room and stepped aside to let her enter. There was a hunger in his eyes that made keeping her own yearning in check seem a near insurmountable struggle.</p><p>And it was, for as soon as he had closed the door behind him, the last shred of her doubt - and self control - were left stranded in the hall. </p><p>Without stopping to consider what she was doing, she took him by the tunic and shoved him against the back of the door. His eyes widened for a second, surprised, before narrowing again as he brought his hand up to grasp her by the back of the neck and pulled her into a kiss full of ferocity and hunger and moons of longing. The combination of sensations did nothing to quell the flames in her belly and she leaned into the embrace, moaning into his mouth and pressing her body to his. </p><p>His desire was apparent even through his tunic and her armor, and she could feel the slick heat of her own want building between her thighs. Suddenly wishing she had thought to take the time to remove her gloves first, she let her hands wander, wanting to feel all of him. He flexed into her as her fingers grazed his chest, his stomach, his ass…</p><p>His grip on her neck shifted, and she could feel him tugging at the strap of her pauldrons. With a groan, she broke off the embrace, pulling back just enough to rip her gloves and gauntlets off and toss them to the side. Raubahn took the opportunity to unfasten the strap he had been worrying, and her pauldrons dropped to the stone at her feet with a hard thud. Pressing her lips to his again, she blindly groped for the strap of his pauldron under his cloak, and felt his hand between them, working at the buckle of her tassets. He groaned with frustration, fumbling with the strap. </p><p>His bullhead pauldron tumbled to the floor, followed by his cloak, and she pulled away again to lend him the aid of her far more nimble fingers, removing her tassets and gorget with a series of deft tugs, before turning her attention to the fastens of his belt and breastplates. Raubahn’s breath was ragged in her ear as she worked the straps loose, and she felt his hand between them again, this time pulling at the laces of her trousers. Silently, she cursed both their own impatience and whoever had made their armor so damned <em> complicated. </em></p><p>The Bull was undeterred. Stepping out of his fallen armor, he grabbed hold of her hip to turn her round, using his great bulk to pin her against the doorframe. She gasped and braced herself against him as his fingers slid between leather and skin, down to where she was practically throbbing with need. He met her backward glance with a lustful grin as he pushed her smallclothes out of the way and slipped a finger inside, drawing a breathy moan from her throat. He kissed her neck, and a second finger joined the first, curling and sliding against and into her, his palm pressed flat against her clit now. </p><p>Moni groaned into the wall, not caring who might hear, his fingers having found just the right angle to rob her of all sense and send her hurtling toward sweet release. As the waves of pleasure wound tighter and tighter within her, she bucked her ass backward into him. He was hard as a rock, and gods<em>, </em>she could feel the sheer <em>size</em> of him through the thin leather of her trousers… He let out a throaty growl, grinding his hips into hers, his fingers working faster and faster.</p><p>She came with a ragged cry, her knees buckling beneath her and her vision going black as she crested the final peak. Seven <em> hells. </em>Were she not pinned against the wall with Raubahn’s hand still wedged firmly between her thighs, she might have collapsed into a puddle right then and there. Gasping for breath, knees still shaking, she shuddered as he slowly withdrew, leaving a slick trail across her navel. He laid his hand flat against her belly, balancing her, and pressed his lips to her neck again. </p><p>Regaining at least some of her faculties, she turned just enough to reach his mouth with hers. His lips were warm and he was still throbbing against her, and the combined sensation set the flames in her core blazing again. Pulling out of the kiss, she reached back to untie the cords of her own breastplate.</p><p>“Unlace me,” she breathed into his ear, the first words either of them had spoken since stepping foot inside the Hall of Flames.</p><p>He obeyed without a word, hooking his thumb under the cords and ripping them loose. The leather clung uncomfortably to her skin, now drenched in sweat, chafing as she shimmied free of the armor. A powerful hand spun her round again, and Raubahn leaned in to catch her in another kiss, ravenous now. </p><p>Her own need momentarily sated, Moni could focus on his, and raked one hand over his broad chest as the other hiked up the edge of his tunic to free him from his smallclothes. He moaned into her mouth as she wrapped her long fingers around her base of his shaft, his own hand sliding up to run a thumb across her breast. The sensation of his rough skin against her nipple made her shudder, and she rewarded him with a few slow, gentle strokes, letting her hand explore the length of him as her own desire built once more. </p><p>He thrust greedily against her palm, growling from deep in his chest as her thumb caressed the tip now slick with precum. She knew she had made him wait long enough; it was time to give him what they both wanted. His cock still firmly in hand, she gently guided him toward the massive four post bed. </p><p>“Strip,” she whispered, pushing him away to follow her own order. </p><p>Raubahn hesitated, apparently transfixed as she knelt over to tug off her boots and trousers. She shot him a pointed look, though, and he seemed to snap from his stupor and wriggled out of his tunic before flinging it to one side. He was half-out of his smallclothes already, twitching in anticipation. Had it not been for the aching heat swelling in her core once more, Moni might have laughed at the absurdity of it all.</p><p>Instead, she ripped the thin fabric away, shoved him back onto the bed, and straddled his hips. Raubahn seemed momentarily stunned again, clearly not accustomed to submission. He tried to pull her down onto him, but she flexed, keeping herself poised just out of reach, remembering how much she enjoyed the sensation of having so powerful a man practically begging for it. She spread her hands across his broad chest, then back down his taut stomach, relishing the obvious desire and rising frustration on his face.</p><p>“Gods, woman,” he groaned, gripping her thigh and trying in vain to thrust again. “Will you give me no relief?”</p><p>She grinned, shifting to slide her cunt down his length, then back up slowly, preparing them both. Then, with a flick of her hips, she brought him to her entrance, holding his hips in place with her thighs. Her eyes locked on his, she let him in, ever so slowly, savoring the delicious feeling of fullness spreading further and further into her with each ilm. It had been ages since she had had a man like this, much less one so well-endowed... </p><p>When she finally had him up to the hilt, she rocked forward and back, seeking the perfect angle. Raubahn’s moans vibrated through her fingertips, his grip tightening and the powerful muscles of his chest and abdomen flexing and rippling as he tried to thrust again. This time she let him, having found the right position to bring the head of his cock to the spot deep inside her that would send her spiraling over the edge again. His hips moved in an urgent rhythm, pushing her closer, and she ground her pelvis down in time with him, bringing one hand to her clit, chasing her second release. </p><p>She keened as she came this time, white hot ecstasy washing over her in waves, making her convulse around him and sapping every onze of strength from her limbs.</p><p>He took the opportunity to seize the upper hand, pushing himself up off the bed and grabbing her around the waist to flip them both over. The sudden show of dominance drew an unexpected gasp of delight from her lips. He shifted his weight, throwing one of her long legs over his good shoulder, pressing himself into her with such might that it lifted her hips from the bed. Seven hells, he was strong. He pushed again, slower this time, but with another powerful thrust at the last ilm. At this angle, with her knees nearly touching her ears, his breath hot against her neck, each stroke hit her exactly where she needed it.</p><p>They moved in time now, each having found the other’s rhythm, bodies drenched with sweat and chests heaving with ragged, breathy moans. Moni wrapped her arms around Raubahn’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair and raking his back as she pulled him into a sloppy kiss before burying her face in his shoulder. He whispered her name hoarsely against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine and a bolt of heat to her core. His thrusts were coming faster now, more erratic, and she knew he was close. With what was left of her quickly fading cognizance, she clenched her thighs, tightening her core around him.</p><p>The Bull came with a roar, slamming her down into the bed and over the edge a third time with the force of it. </p><p>Their hoarse cries, muffled against one another’s shoulders, mingled and faded into labored gasps. Then Raubahn shuddered, and she could feel his weight threaten to crush her as his lone arm began to tremble from the strain of holding himself up for so long. Gently, she untangled their limbs and eased him to the side, cradling his head to her chest and stroking his cheek until his chest stopped heaving. </p><p>She could feel his seed spilling from between her legs, hot and sticky, but she couldn’t find the energy or will to get up to deal with it. His breath was warm against her breast, his hair soft against her cheek, his arm heavy on her stomach... and for the first time in a very long time, she felt something like contentment settle over her. </p><p>Then she felt him shift beside her, rolling away to push himself up. As he stood, Moni was seized with a sudden bolt of frigid dread. He had gotten what he wanted and was done with her, surely… But he turned to her with a soft smile and an outstretched hand. She took it, tentatively, before letting him pull her to her feet and into a kiss, this one tender and full of something she wasn’t sure she understood. Pulling away, he laced his fingers with her and brought her hand to his lips, then withdrew to a dim corner of the room. She watched him with rising curiosity as he returned with a small basin of water and knelt at her feet. She realized that she was trembling as he looked up into her eyes. “If I may, my lady…”</p><p>She swallowed hard, and nodded, at a complete loss for words. <em> My lady? </em> He drew a cloth from the basin, and then, with a care that bordered on reverence, began to wash away the remnants of their coupling. The water was cool against her skin, and his hands were gentle. The gesture caught her breath in her throat and she wondered how her knees had strength to hold her. Did he understand, did he know what he was doing to her? Gods, was this love?</p><p>His act of devotion complete, Raubahn set the basin aside and stood to tend to himself. She studied him, breathless, set adrift in a sea of unfamiliar emotion. </p><p>As if sensing her rising uncertainty, he cupped her chin, grazing a gentle caress across her cheek with his thumb. Then, mercifully, he stepped away to strip the soiled blanket from the bed, and pulled back the sheets before beckoning for her to join him. “I believe I promised you a place to bed down.”</p><p>Moni could only chuckle, breathless and dumbfounded. What else was there to do? Raubahn gave her a curious look, but she didn’t bother to explain - she couldn’t have - as she eased into the bed beside him and pressed her lips to his. He seemed satisfied with that answer, though, and leaned back to let her settle against his chest. With his hand curled around her shoulder and his breath warm against her scalp, she finally allowed herself to relax, to accept whatever this was. </p><p>The weariness that she had been holding at bay for what felt like moons overtook her then, and she drifted off, into the deep, dreamless sleep of a woman utterly at peace.</p>
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